Numerous Hollywood creatives appear to have taken the cautionary words of Fame’s dance instructor Lydia Grant as a starting point: “You want fame? Well, fame costs. And right here is where you start paying… with sweat.” Of course, it’s usually more than perspiration that industry wannabes are required to offer up in return for a loyal following and cold hard cash.
HBO’s The Idol is the latest drama to shine a light on the seedy underbelly of the entertainment industry – albeit in a manner which defied any sense of narrative logic, dedicated more screentime to Lily Rose-Depp‘s nipples than any convincing character development, and ensured you could never take The Weeknd’s lothario reputation seriously ever again.
But if you can’t quite subject yourself to a prestige drama that seems to have scripted by a teen Pornhub addict — or if you did, and are now trying to scrub the experience from your memory entirely — here’s a look at seven cinematic stories which managed to expose the dark side of fame without a rat tail in sight.
Maps to the Stars (2014)
A drug-addled teen idol, a brutal death via Hollywood statuette, and not just one, but two incestuous marriages. Maps to the Stars’ meditation on the obsessive nature of fame is so twisted even its director David Cronenberg – a man whose work is synonymous with exploding heads and hideous mutations – acknowledged it was a “hard sell”. In a packed ensemble cast, it’s Julianne Moore who steals the show as a faded actress desperate to escape the (literal) ghost of her Hollywood legend mother by erm, playing her in a biopic. But Mia Wasikowska’s pyromaniac PA, John Cusack’s unscrupulous celebrity psychologist and Olivia Williams’ stage mom-from-hell also help paint a darkly comic, deeply fucked-up picture of an industry that appears to take great pride in chewing up its inhabitants and ruthlessly spitting them out.
Starry Eyes (2014)
Before getting their hands on Stephen King’s Pet Sematary, filmmakers Kevin Kölsch and Dennis Widmyer showcased their horror credentials with this highly unnerving tale of the pressures forced upon female actors. Starry Eyes focuses on Alexandra Essoe’s Sarah Walker, a struggling thespian who initially appears to have failed her audition for a mysterious film called The Silver Scream. But on seeing her visceral reaction to rejection – primal screams, ripping her hair out – its enigmatic casting director realises she has potential. Just not in the way she hoped. What follows is a nightmare jumping-through-hoops process which involves everything from sleazy Harvey Weinstein-esque moguls and occultist rituals to facial disfigurements and a murdering frenzy.
Mulholland Drive (2001)
Regarded by many as David Lynch’s true masterpiece, Mulholland Drive was initially shot as a TV pilot, which – along with its director’s penchant for confounding his audience – explains why it seems to pose about a million and one unanswered questions. Indeed, you could dedicate years to analysing its labyrinthian, dreamlike narrative and still be none the wiser. But as with much of Lynch’s jigsaw-like oeuvre, that’s all part of the appeal. What we can say with a degree of certainty is that Naomi Watts delivers a star-making performance as an aspiring ingénue who loses her innocence, and indeed her sanity, navigating both the Tinseltown machine and the mystery surrounding an alluring amnesiac and symbolic blue key.
Amy (2015)
Asif Kapadia’s sobering portrait of Britain’s greatest modern-day soul singer is a perfect encapsulation of just how destructive celebrity culture can be. At the start of the documentary, Amy Winehouse is a carefree 14-year-old, channelling Marilyn Monroe at a birthday party. By the end, she’s in a body bag having succumbed to the pitfalls of toxic relationships, substance abuse and constant media hounding. Indeed, the baying paparazzi, several chat show hosts who should know better and even Winehouse’s own father are all shown either revelling in or capitalising on the “Back to Black” singer’s state of distress.
Under the Silver Lake (2018)
Upon its 2018 release, the follow-up to David Robert Mitchell’s elevated horror It Follows was dismissed as a Richard Kelly-esque career nosedive, but there’s plenty to admire about its go-for-broke Hollywood critique. Playing against type, Andrew Garfield is brilliantly scuzzy as a voyeuristic washed-up actor whose infatuation with conspiracy theories leads him down the wormhole of his new neighbour’s mysterious disappearance. Under the Silver Lake depicts Los Angeles as a place not of opportunity, but where dreams go to die: see the numerous characters (including a brief appearance from Sydney Sweeney) deemed so insignificant they’re not even afforded a name, forced to take demeaning side-jobs to make ends meet. Only the rich, the powerful and those willing to encase themselves in a tomb appear to thrive in this baffling but compelling neo-noir.
The Neon Demon (2016)
As with Nicolas Rending Wefn’s previous effort Only God Forgives, fashion industry satire The Neon Demon was met with a standing ovation as well as a chorus booing when it first premiered at Cannes. The divisive reaction is understandable: on one hand, it’s an immaculately stylish affair in which every single frame seems designed for a coffee table book, while Elle Fanning mesmerises as a natural beauty whose quest for runway dominance turns her into a narcissistic beast. On the other, it’s a consistently jaw-dropping watch where one model has sex with a corpse, another violently stabs herself to death and another eats a human eyeball that has already been regurgitated. However offensive you find such deliberate shock tactics, you’ll probably never watch a fashion show in the same way again.
Misery (1990)
Forget those festival-goers disgruntled by Arctic Monkeys’ refusal to simply play the hits at this year’s Glastonbury. When it comes to expressing disapproval of new material, they’ve got nothing on Annie Wilks. Fully deserving of her Best Actress Oscar, Kathy Bates is a tour-de-force as the deranged “number one fan” who imprisons James Caan’s bed-ridden author (rescued from a car crash in her snow-capped Colorado hometown) after reading a manuscript that fails to meet her satisfaction. Adapted from Stephen King’s novel of the same name, the brilliantly tense Misery takes the concept of stan culture and pushes it to ankle-shattering extremes.